Wine, Women, and Swords
by pamz
Summary: My "Too Much Wine" challenge story. What happens when you mix drunk caballeros, jealous innkeepers, and fine Toledo steel? You say you don't know? I don't know either. Let's find out together.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **This is my Too Much Wine Challenge as suggested by knotheadsrus on the New World Zorro Fanfiction Facebook page**. **Each story had to include: 1) someone drinking too much wine, 2) someone getting a new sword, 3) a sword fight, 4) an argument between friends, and 5) someone must kiss a stranger.

Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the entertainmentof other Zorro fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of Goodman/Rosen Productions, New World Television, Zorro Productions Inc., the estate of Johnston McCulley, or anyone else.

**WINE, WOMEN, AND SWORDS**

**CHAPTER ONE**

Diego de la Vega and his father, Don Alejandro strolled into the Taverna Victoria one very warm summer evening. The place was filled nearly to the rafters with customers. All of them must be trying to escape the heat, Diego mused.

He walked up to the bar where Victoria was wiping out a glass. "Two lemonades, _por favor_," he requested, smiling down at her.

"We're out of lemonade," she said briskly.

"Orange juice?" Diego asked, his smile fading somewhat.

"Out of that too," she replied as she picked up another cup and placed it with the others.

"What _do_ you have to drink?" queried Diego, deciding to cut to the chase.

"Water or wine." Victoria pointed to two pitchers on the counter. She tipped her head to bottles on the shelves behind her with a knowing little smile. "Unless you are interested in tequila or whiskey?"

"Two waters then," he declared, ignoring her teasing about his teetotalism. He started to take a glass from the top of her neat stack.

"Looks like your father found his own refreshment."

Diego turned around and saw that the elder de la Vega was sitting with some of his friends, one of which was pouring a large amount of wine into a glass in front of Don Alejandro. Facing Victoria once again, Diego poured himself a glass of water before strolling over to the table to join his father.

"_Buenas noches_, Diego," said Don Sebastian. The other three men sitting there all raised their cups in greeting.

"_Salud_." Diego wasn't sure if Don Esteban or Don Fernando had spoken as they all lifted their arms higher before taking a drink.

"It certainly looks like you are celebrating tonight," declared Diego. He took a sip of his water.

"Indeed, indeed," Don Esteban said. "Today is my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Twenty-five years of wedded bliss."

"To thirty years!" called out Don Arturo.

The men, including Don Alejandro, emptied their glasses.

"Um, shouldn't you be home, celebrating with your. . .um, wife?" asked Diego naively.

"Have you met my wife, Diego?" inquired Don Esteban. Diego nodded; of course, everyone in the pueblo knew Doña Carmen. "Then you know why I am here."

The tipsy don guffawed loudly at his own wit. More wine was poured as the others all laughed heartily. With a shake of his head, Diego clapped a hand on his father's shoulder then left to go find more congenial and less inebriated company.

Several hours later, Diego sat with Sergeant Mendoza, listening to yet again one of the lancer's far-fetched tales of his military service, he noticed that the noise from the table where the elder caballeros were had grown quieter. Glancing over, he saw that at least two of the dons had passed out and the rest, his father included, were swaying in their seats.

"Excuse me, Sergeant," he said as he got up and walked over to the group of old men.

"Hey, Diego." The elder de la Vega's speech slurred as he tried to stand up, faltered, then sat back down.

Victoria came upon the scene then, the smile in her eyes warring with the disapproving set of her mouth. Diego had to admit it was sort of funny, the leading caballeros of the pueblo drunker than the worst vaqueros after the spring round-up.

"Why don't we let them sleep it off here tonight?" the innkeeper suggested. "I don't think any of them are capable staying on a horse right now."

"I suspect you are right, Señorita," Diego agreed.

The next hour was spent rousing the intoxicated men, convincing them they were in no shape to go to their respective haciendas, and helping them up to the rooms upstairs. Once they were all tucked in for the night, Diego and Victoria strolled back downstairs.

"Well, I better be heading home," Diego said as Victoria made her way behind the bar. "I'll be back first thing in the morning to see how father is doing."

"_Gracias_, Diego," she said. "_Buenas noches_."

"_Buenas noches_."

Diego smiled wistfully to himself as he walked away from her and toward the door. As he reached out for the handle, the door opened, allowing in a gust of wind along with two exhausted looking women, both covered from head to toe in black garments.

"_Hola_," a startled Diego said in greeting. "May I help you?"

"Are you the landlord?" inquired the younger of the two.

"No, I am," Victoria announced as she glided forward. "Welcome to the pueblo de Los Angeles. I am Victoria Escalante. Please, come inside."

The women stepped across the tavern's threshold as Diego held the door for them. "I'm sorry but I only have one room left," Victoria apologized once the newcomers came to a halt in the middle of the room. "I usually don't get guests this late."

"Our ship didn't arrive at San Pedro until this evening, then our carriage broke down a few miles from here and we had to wait while the driver repaired it," said the woman who had spoken earlier.

"Well, let's hope your luck has changed for the better," Diego declared with a polite smile.

"_Gracias_, although I daresay it already has." The woman then pulled back the hood of her dusty traveling cloak, revealing glossy raven curls, deep brown eyes, and flawless porcelain skin. She was the most stunning woman Diego had ever seen and his body reacted as if he were an inexperienced boy. Mentally scolding himself, he listened as the beautiful newcomer continued to speak.

"I am Señora Murillo, and this is my mother, Señora Gomez." The older woman nodded as she was introduced. "One room will be fine."

"Are you hungry?" asked Victoria tersely as she moved behind the counter and lifted a key from its hook. "I have some supper left. I could warm it. . ."

"No, just some tea, if you have it, _por favor_," replied Señora Murillo, taking the proffered key.

Diego wondered at the scowl marring Victoria's usually lovely features as she ducked into the kitchen.. Surely she wasn't upset about the señoras' late arrival, he mused as he listened to her banging and clanging about as she prepared the requested tea.

Diego turned his attention back to her guests, noting that the women were each clutching large overstuffed satchels.

"Here, let me take those up to your room," he offered, reaching out his hand.

"_Gracias_." The pair relinquished their luggage to him. Señora Murillo beamed at him gratefully as her fingers grazed his, causing him to feel oddly dizzy. Slightly shaking his head as if to clear it, Diego then carried the heavy bags to the top of the staircase to the last unoccupied room.

The mother and daughter had followed and Diego set down one of the satchels to open the door before permitting the women to enter the room before him. He placed their luggage at the foot of the bed.

Stepping back out of the room, Diego said, "If there is anything else you need, please let Victoria know. _Buenas noches, señoras_."

"Wait, señor," said Señora Murillo, placing her gloved hand on his arm. The contact made his skin tingle under the linen of his shirt sleeve. He wanted to pull away, run away, anything to stop the wholly inappropriate thoughts that began racing through his mind. Gritting his teeth, he resisted both the impulse to jump backward and the more disturbing impulse to take her into his arms.

"_Si_?" he managed to inquire in a strangled voice.

"Do you work here?" she asked. With a glance at her mother, she continued, "Are you Señor Escalante?"

"Oh, no," Diego replied with a chuckle. As surreptitiously as he could, he let his arm fall to his side. His inner turmoil lessened, though not by much. She was still staring up at him with her dark chocolate colored eyes, eyes in which he could easily lose himself. "Señorita Escalante and I are not. . . I mean she's not my wife. She's. . . She's just a very good friend of my family." He said the last sentence in a single breath, hoping he did not sound as gauche as he felt.

The señora smiled at him, raising her right eyebrow. Feeling even more foolish at the realization that he had not yet introduced himself, he bowed and stated, "Diego de la Vega, at your service."

A strange expression, something akin to triumph, passed over her face so fleetingly that Diego thought he must have imagined it.

"Well, _gracias_, Señor de la Vega," she said, a mask of politeness now firmly in place. "_Buenas noches_."

"_De nada_," he replied, not understanding the disappointment he was experiencing, even though he knew he must go. "_Buenas noches_."

He turned to leave, nearly crashing into Victoria as she stood next to him, holding the laden tea tray. He hadn't even noticed her presence until that moment.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered inanely as he stepped aside and allowed her to enter the bedchamber. She let the tray drop heavily onto the small table by the bed. The pitcher holding the cream nearly toppled and drops of tea spewed forth from the pot.

"Will there be anything else," Victoria said, through clenched teeth Diego noted, as she shot him a dark look. He still had no idea why she was so annoyed. She must just be tired, he speculated.

"No, thank you," Señora Murillo responded.

"Good night then," said Victoria, more than a little ungraciously. She swirled about and headed out of the room. She was halfway down the stairs when she suddenly twirled back around. "Are you coming, Diego? Or do you did change your mind about staying the night?"

Diego snapped out of the fog that seemed to be encircling his head. "No. . . I mean yes. . . I mean. . ." He stopped speaking, took a deep breath, then said, "Yes, I'm coming. No, I'm not staying." He jogged down steps to where Victoria was waiting. "I'll be back first thing in the morning," he said, echoing his earlier statement before the two women had arrived.

"I just bet you will," Victoria muttered in a low bitter tone that Diego was sure he was not supposed to have heard, before saying firmly, "Good night, Diego."

She continued her descent and strode into the kitchen without a backward glance. With a small shrug, Diego headed toward the tavern's exit. As he opened the door, he darted his eyes up to the top of the stairs, catching one last view of Señora Murillo before she closed her bedroom door.

His groin tightened uncomfortably. What was wrong with him? He was in love with. . . with. . . Victoria. Yes, he was in love with Victoria. _Then why_, a little voice in his head whispered, _does the señora stir your blood like no other woman you've met before has._

She doesn't, he scolded himself, she couldn't. She might be the most beautiful woman he have ever laid his eyes on, but he learned long ago that beauty was only skin deep. Victoria, she was beautiful both inside and out. She was the woman he loved. Victoria.

He stepped out onto the tavern porch and breathed in the crisp night air. He conjured up an image of his _querida _as he walked over to his horse; her glossy raven curls, her deep chocolate eyes, her porcelain-like skin.

It was only after he had settled himself in his saddle that he realized that somehow, some way, his vision of Victoria had seamlessly, shockingly, had slid into a likeness of Señora Murillo.

**Z Z Z**


	2. Chapter 2

**WINE, WOMEN, AND SWORDS**

**CHAPTER TWO**

The sun had barely risen over the eastern horizon the next morning as Diego and Felipe rode into the pueblo. Felipe was going to escort Don Alejandro back to the hacienda, while Diego was going to stay in town to work on the newspaper. The arrival of a ship in San Pedro always brought news from the outside world, and the young man whom Diego had hired to gather that information was probably already on his way to Los Angeles.

As he and Felipe tied their mounts to the railing in front of the tavern, Diego yawned. He had spent what had been left of the night tossing and turning, with fevered dreams of both Victoria and Señora Murillo disturbing what little sleep he had received. Dreams that made him feel uncomfortable and guilty.

But all that was driven from his mind as a loud clanging sound came from inside the inn, followed by raucous shouting. With a smile, Diego turned to see Felipe's eyebrows raised with alarm. "I think Victoria is giving her guests a rather vigorous wake-up call this morning," he said with a chuckle.

He opened the door and was greeted with chaos. The old caballeros, who had been so lively the evening before, were mere shadows of their former selves. They came stumbling out of their rooms, most clutching their heads.

"Señorita, _por favor_." Don Arturo pleaded softly as he made his way down the staircase. "Stop that infernal racket."

Don Alejandro who following closely on his _amigo's_ heels, grasping the wall like a lifeline, begged in a bit more strident tone, "_Madre de Dios_, Victoria. Have some pity on some poor fools."

The lovely innkeeper gave the large pot she held one more whack with a wooden spoon. "At least you realize you are old fools," she said smugly. Her eyes darted upward and her grin grew even wider.

Diego followed her gaze and saw the two women step out of their dormer, displeasure apparent on both their faces. A jolt of lust shot through him as he singled out Señora Murillo, who looked none the worse for wear for her rude awakening.

"Oh, I am so sorry," Victoria said as her only female guests reached the bottom of the stairs. "I didn't mean to wake you, too." Diego seemed to be the only one present to notice that the señorita's apology wasn't at all sincere.

"That's quite all right," said Señora Murillo. "We are early risers anyway." She smiled sweetly at the innkeeper.

With a huff, Victoria swirled around, disappearing into the kitchen. Within a few seconds, she returned with a tray stacked with mugs and a steaming pot. "Coffee?"

The elder de la Vega and his friends all raised their hands. The men made their way to a table, sitting down before Victoria placed the hot beverage in front of them. The mother and daughter sat at another table some distance from the others. Felipe glanced up at Diego before going to join Don Alejandro's already crowded group.

With a casualness he did not feel, Diego sauntered over to the women's table. "May I join you, señoras?" he asked, the words nearly sticking in his throat.

"Why, certainly, Don Diego," said Señora Murillo. "That would be lovely."

Diego seated himself across from the ladies. Taking a deep breath, he glanced up as Victoria came over to them and banged three cups on the hard wooden surface.

"Coffee?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"_Si, por_. . ." Diego's response was interrupted by Señora Murillo. "We would like tea. If it's no trouble."

"No, no trouble at all." Victoria spun away and marched across the room. Diego looked down at his empty cup then at the curtains leading into the kitchens. Why was Victoria acting so crossly? he wondered as he resigned himself to having a cup of tea rather than coffee that morning.

"And what are you doing here so early, Don Diego?" asked Señora Murillo, drawing his attention back to his companions.

"To check on my father," Diego replied distractedly. With a wave of his hand, he indicated the caballeros at the other table. "He and his _amigos_ were. . .uh, celebrating last night, and decided to stay here." He then realized that she had called him 'Don Diego' twice, and began speculating on why she would do that, when he was struck by another question.

"Murillo?" he inquired aloud. "You wouldn't be related to Antonio Murillo, would you? He was a friend of mine at university."

"He was my husband," she said solemnly. "He died nearly two years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Diego said contritely. "I didn't know. My deepest condolences, señora." He then knew why she had addressed him by his honorific. "Antonio was a fine fellow."

"_Si_, he was," the señora sniffed, tossing a quick look at her mother. "He spoke of you often, Don Diego."

"Kindly, I hope."

"Oh, yes," she stated promptly before smiling slyly at him. "Although I could hardly say differently now, could I?"

"I suppose not," Diego agreed with a laugh. Both women joined in his amusement.

A throat being cleared loudly caught their attention and all three of them glanced up to see Victoria standing there with a pot of the requested tea. "Oh, _gracias, señorita_," said Señora Murillo. "We are absolutely parched this morning. We just learned that Don Diego here was a friend of my dear departed husband. Isn't that the most amazing coincidence?"

"Yes. Fascinating." Victoria's clipped answer was almost as abrupt as her filling their mugs. She plopped a couple of silver containers on the table. "Sugar and milk. Will there be anything else?" She had stashed her tray under her arm, looking as if she couldn't wait to leave.

"Oh, this will be fine," replied Señora Murillo. She turned her gaze back to Diego as she added a scoop of sugar to her tea as Victoria left in a huff. "Don Diego, you must tell us all about the trouble you and my husband got up to at university."

"There isn't much to tell, Señora," Diego declared before taking a sip from his cup. "And you can just call me Diego."

"Oh, then you must call me Violetta," she said, reaching out and lightly touching his arm.

Diego's mind began reeling from the intimate, flirtatious gesture. As politely as he could, he jerked his arm away from her touch. "Very well, then," he managed to say. "I'm sorry I lost contact with Antonio. I had no idea he had even married."

"He was a terrible correspondent," said Violetta. "It doesn't surprise me at all that you didn't know."

"Tell me how you two met," Diego suggested. Then appalled by his lack of delicacy, he added, "unless, of course, it's too painful."

"Not at all," she replied. Violetta then launched into the tale of how she had met his friend, which evolved into a discussion of Madrid and the university.

So absorbing was their conversation that Diego didn't notice his father standing next to him until Don Alejandro clamped a hand down on his shoulder.

"Diego, Felipe and I are heading back to the hacienda now," the old don announced. "Are you coming with us?"

"Uh, no. I'm going to put a few hours in at the newspaper," Diego answered, noting that the other caballeros had already left. "A ship arrived at San Pedro last night." Then realizing that the elder de la Vega was staring expectantly at the two ladies, Diego quickly introduced them.

"Charmed to have made your acquaintance, señoras," his father said, raising Señora Gomez's hand to his lips. "Will you be in Los Angeles for long?"

"We're not sure," Violetta responded, glancing at her mother. "We were just passing through on our way to Monterey and remembered that my late husband's old friend lived here and thought we might call on him."

"Well, I hope you both enjoy your visit." Don Alejandro patted Diego on the back. "_Adios_."

"_Adios_, father."

The old don and Felipe departed the tavern, the elder de la Vega still a little unsteady on his feet. Diego turned to his companions.

"Well, we won't keep you from your duties, Diego," said Violetta. "Mother, let's take that stroll around this charming pueblo that you suggested earlier."

"I could guide you, if you wish," Diego proposed before he could stop himself from making the impetuous offer. The last thing he needed was to spend more time in Señora Murillo's presence. She disturbed him in a way that made him feel like he no longer had control of himself or his emotions.

"Oh, that's quite all right," said Señora Gomez. "I'm sure we can find our way about. Come, _hija_."

The pair of women rose from their seats and gathered their belongings. Diego, also got to his feet, then watched them as they, too, exited the building. His whole body reacted as Violetta turned just as she was stepping out the door and smiled at him. He shut his eyes, hoping to blot the tantalizing image from his brain.

"You two seemed awful cosy."

Victoria's sarcastic comment broke through his failed attempt to clear the beautiful young widow from his head. Diego opened his eyes to see the bitterness marring the innkeeper's lovely face. "She was married to a friend of mine from university," he explained. "We were merely speaking about our shared knowledge of Antonio and of Madrid."

"Of course." She had been roughly placing the empty tea cups onto her tray as he spoke. Without another word, she swirled and walked away. What was wrong with her. . .? Diego's mouth fell open as he finally figured it out. She was jealous!

"You're jealous," he blurted out.

She came to a halt before the curtained partition before whirling around to face him. "What?" she replied indignantly. "Don't be sill. . ."

Diego's long legs covered the distance between them in just a couple of steps. "I'm not being 'silly' as you always so glibly put it," he said acidly.

"Why would I be jealous of you and that. . .that. . .?"

"The young beautiful widow of an old friend of mine?" Diego filled in the blank for her before she insulted the good woman's character. "I could think of a reason or two." He stared at her, willing her to admit that she was indeed envious of the fact that another woman could be interested in him.

Victoria tossed her head contemptuously. "Is she beautiful? I didn't notice."

"You would have to be blind not to notice," he contended. His lips drew up into a smirk. "I find her to be quite stunning myself. In fact, she rather reminds of someone else. Someone I admire and respect."

"Oh." Setting the tray down onto the bar, she gazed up at him, her expression quite taken aback. "You mean that woman you love, the one you told Zafira about. I didn't realize that you still. . .well. . ."

"Carried a torch for her?" Diego prompted again. He really ought to feel like a cad for taunting her this way, but he was tired of her rapturous rambles about Zorro on top of her rude dismissals of him as someone she could love. It bothered him that she couldn't see what was right in front of her.

Victoria stepped behind the counter, putting away the milk and sugar. "Don't you have a paper to write or an experiment to do or something?" she asked petulantly.

"_Si_," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "You haven't answered my question though."

"Ha, as if I would," she said, slamming her tray back down on the bar. "Why would I care who you want to spend your time with? It's certainly none of my business."

"You're right, it isn't," Diego declared. "So why do you act so ill-tempered any time a woman pays the slightest bit of attention to me."

"I. . .I. . ." Victoria stammered, her eyes snapping with anger. She thrust her arm toward the door, pointing at it. "Get out. Just get out." She turned away but then spun back around to glare at him. "And don't come back until you apologize for your boorish behavior."

With that said, she stomped into the kitchen. Evidently he had struck a nerve, one that, if he was guessing correctly, she hadn't even known she had. But she did have a point. He had behaved boorishly.

But an apology would have to wait. He had other important matters to deal with first.

**Z Z Z**

It was over an hour later when a knock sounded upon the door of the Guardian. His correspondent had arrived only moments after Diego had reached the office himself, bringing several pages of notes and a handful of old newspapers that the ship's captain had given him. Diego had immediately set to perusing the information to see what he could use in his next edition.

He wondered for a moment who could be disturbing him, but then remembered he was expecting a parcel from Spain. It must have aboard the newly docked ship, he surmised. Nearly a year ago, he had ordered a sword forged of Toledo steel for Felipe. Luckily, it had arrived before the lad's eighteenth birthday the following month. Diego knew that the date was not Felipe's true birthday, but the day he had found the frightened young boy alone on the battlefield. But it was the day they had decided to celebrate the boy's passing years.

Rising from his desk, he strode over and opened the door. Señora Murillo stood on the other side of the threshold. Diego took a step back, as if warding off the enchantment the woman seemed to place on him whenever she was near.

"Aren't you going to let me in, Diego?" she asked in a teasing tone.

He shook himself and moved out of the way. "Yes, of course," he replied, holding the door wide. "Sorry."

The widow walked into the room, looking about as Diego close the door. Realizing she must be searching for somewhere to sit down, he jumped over to a chair piled high with books, and grabbed the stack into his arms.

"Please, have a seat," he offered, tipping his head toward the now empty chair. Not waiting to see if she complied, Diego glanced about for a spot to unload the tomes he was clutching. Spying a clear space on the floor near his desk, he set the books down then turned to gaze at the señora once more. He knew he should say something but he had no idea what. His trousers began to grow tight and he plopped himself down behind his desk before he embarrassed himself.

"Diego," she started. "I haven't told you the full story of why I'm here in Los Angeles."

"So you're not just passing through?" Diego choked out. "And decided to seek me out?"

"Oh, I definitely came here to seek you out," Violetta answered earnestly. "I desperately need your help."

"I will certainly do all that I can," he assured her, "if it is in my power to do so."

"I do so hope it is," the young widow said as she reached into her reticule and pulled out an envelope. She paused before continuing "I need you to get this letter to Zorro."

**Z Z Z**


	3. Chapter 3

**WINE, WOMEN, AND SWORDS**

**CHAPTER THREE**

Diego sat paralyzed in his chair. Why would this woman have a message for Zorro? And why would she come to him to see it delivered? Shaking himself out of his shock, he asked her those very questions.

"It does seem odd," Violetta agreed. "But the explanation is simple. Antonio was on his way to see you when he died. He. . ."

"What?" Diego interrupted, surprised once again. "I had no idea. I hadn't heard from him since I left university. Why would he come to visit me?"

"I'm not sure," Señora Murillo said. "He got a letter from another old school friend one day and the next day told me he was leaving for California. He gave me this to give to you if something happened to him." She reached into her handbag, bringing out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "His ship was lost at sea during a storm near Cape Horn. There were no survivors."

"Again, you have my deepest sympathy, Señora," commiserated Diego. "It must have been very important for my friend to risk his life to come see me. Who was this classmate that set off such a tragic series of events?"

"Domingo Maldonado."

Diego had been wrong in thinking he could not be astonished anymore that day. That name was one he had not heard since he had left Madrid. And one he had hoped to never hear again. Maldonado had never been his friend. Oh, no, quite the opposite. The two had been rivals since the first day they had set foot on campus together.

"Diego?" He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his companion's voice. She was staring at him curiously.

"Um. . .Maldonado?" he queried as indifferently as he could. "I. . .uh. . .remember someone by that name. He and Antonio kept in contact?"

"No," said the widow. "That's why I thought it so strange that my husband would leave so abruptly after hearing from him."

"Strange, indeed," Diego agreed. "I am guessing that you never saw the contents of the missive from Maldonado?"

"No, Antonio didn't share it with me and he took the letter with him," she confirmed. She glanced at the envelope in her hand. "I haven't read this one either."

He could tell she was telling the truth as its flap appeared to be unmolested. Standing, he extended his hand. "You have my word that this letter will reach Zorro."

She stared at the missive one last time then placed it into his hand. "_Gracias_, Diego. I knew I could trust you."

"_De nada_," he replied, slightly uncomfortable by her admission. "Well. . ." Another knock at the door saved Diego from having to dismiss the señora. Diego walked over to the door and opened it. This time the person on the other side was not so alarming as it was a messenger carrying a suspiciously long package. "Ah, my order from Spain."

The transaction took mere seconds to complete, the young man sent on his way with a generous tip. Diego set the parcel aside before turning his attention back to the beautiful widow.

"So do you think you can deliver the letter to Zorro today?" she asked.

"It's not that simple, Señora. Zorro is highly unpredictable. I really have no more knowledge of his whereabouts than anyone else in the pueblo."

"Oh, but surely. . ." she began.

"It's true," he interrupted her. "In fact, I have only met him once or twice." He nodded his head in the direction of the tavern. "You would be better off leaving the letter with Señorita Escalante. It is rumored that he visits her from time to time. Or the alcalde. Zorro has dropped in on him unannounced on more than one occasion."

"Oh, but Antonio said I was to give it to you," she replied. "He stressed that upon me." She glanced up at him with an expression of dismay and added, "Plus I get the feeling the señorita doesn't like me."

"I'm sure you are just imagining that," Diego declared, not sure why he felt he had to defend Victoria's hostility toward Violetta. "She's really a lovely woman once you get to know her."

The widow raised her eyebrows as if she didn't quite believe that. "Of course," she said. "It is just that I have to admit I am rather interested in what my husband could have written that made him endanger his life." Violetta took a step toward Diego. "I miss him so much," she stated in a quavery tone. "He meant the world to me."

She looked up at him woefully. "I have been so terribly lonely since he. . . Since he. . ." The widow threw herself against Diego, and began sobbing on his chest. Lust shot through him like a bullet.

_Madre de Dios_, he thought as he encircled his arms around her. Here she was, seeking comfort, and he could do nothing but think impure thoughts. As he was berating himself for acting like a cad, she glanced up at him through tear-stained lashes, bewitching him even further. Feeling as helpless as a newborn foal, he lowered his lips to hers.

Violetta's arms snaked around his neck as she enthusiastically returned his kiss. Diego brought his hands up to caressed her breasts as his tongue plunged into her mouth again and again. With a soft moan, she tightened her hold as he lowered his hands to cup her bottom, pressing her against his arousal.

The loud whinny of a horse just outside the office brought Diego to his senses. He thrust the widow away, unable to look her in the eyes.

"My deepest apologies, Señora," he murmured as he struggled to regain control. "I don't know what came over me."

"No need to apologize, Diego," Violetta said demurely. "I. . .I should go." Reaching for the doorknob, she turned to look at him. "Please, don't forget the letter," she reminded him.

"I won't," he promised, glad to be given something else to dwell on. He moved ahead of her and opened the door for her. She stepped through the portal and he followed her outside.

"Thank you again, Diego," she said before rising up on her toes and kissing his cheek. With that, she hurried away across the plaza.

Diego watched her go, hypnotized by the swaying of her skirts. Then with a sense of foreboding, he raised his eyes and saw Victoria standing on the porch of her inn, a tray with a pitcher and several glasses in her hands. If looks could kill, thought Diego, he would be lying dead on the ground. Obviously she had witnessed the end of his encounter with Violetta and hadn't like what she had seen. She probably would truly kill him if she found out about the other kiss.

So much for her earlier protestations. She _was_ jealous. Mischievously, he smiled and waved at her, wondering how he could get her to admit she had feelings for him. Feelings that went much deeper than just the friendship she claimed she felt for him.

His lightened mood dissipated as swiftly as it had arrived though as he caught a glimpse of Señora Murillo as she entered the tavern. Once again his body reacted as though he had never before seen such a stunning woman.

Vainly trying to clear his mind of her, he vowed that Zorro would pay visit Victoria that very evening. Obviously, he needed a reminder of who truly held his heart. With a sigh he headed back inside the office. The letter addressed to his alter ego was still lying on his desk. Deciding he would read it later in the cave, he tucked it into his jacket pocket before getting back to the business of publishing a newspaper.

**Z Z Z**

It wasn't until much later that evening that Diego sat at the carved mahogany desk in the cavern under the de la Vega hacienda, staring at the still unopened envelope he held in his hands. His curiosity had tempted him all day, keen to learn its contents. Yet another part of him restrained itself, worried that opening the letter would be akin to opening a Pandora's box.

Aware that he was procrastinating, Diego examined the missive, noting that the word 'Zorro' was scrawled in an untidy and unfamiliar hand. He did not remember ever seeing Antonio's handwriting in all the years they spent together at university. His old _amigo_ had not been much of a scholar, preferring athletics and socializing to academics. In fact, Murillo had also been a pupil of Sir Edmund Kendall, as had Domingo Maldonado. Praying that connection had nothing to do with the weathered packet in his hand, Diego reached for his letter opener and deftly sliced the top of the envelope.

He extracted the single piece of paper and with a modicum of dread, unfolded it. No sooner than he had done so, he heard footsteps making their way toward him, prefacing the arrival of Felipe. The lad landed at the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the stall where Toronado stood, munching on hay before checking himself. He looked over at Diego with a raised brow and a nod to the letter.

"It's nothing," Diego lied, not sure of the sudden urge to keep the note from the youth. "Just a letter from an old friend." He stood up, stuffing the missive into his desk drawer.

Felipe gestured toward the black stallion, explaining that he noticed something amiss with one of the Andalusian's hooves. With a sigh, Diego rose from his chair, then walked over to where the youth stood waiting. So much for Zorro paying a call on Victoria tonight, he thought, wondering why the delay filled him with relief instead of disappointment. Shaking his head, he examined the hoof that Felipe held up for inspection.

**Z Z Z**

It was late the next morning when Diego tapped in the last nail of the new horseshoe. The old one had evidently caught on something and had pulled loose, damaging the shoe in the process. And since they could hardly take Zorro's mount to the local farrier, they had to do the work themselves.

"There, that should do it," he said before setting the hammer down. He then lowered the stallion's leg and let the horse test out his new footwear. "Good as new, old boy," announced Diego, giving Toronado an affectionate rub on the nose. Then turning to Felipe, he said, "Well, I'm off to the pueblo with Father. I should be back before supper and then after we can test our handiwork here."

Felipe nodded then went to work currying the horse's coat. Giving the Andalusian another pat, Diego turned and left the cave.

**Z Z Z**

The midnight black stallion tore up the turf as it headed for the pueblo de Los Angeles, its black-clad rider leaning low over his mount's neck. The new horseshoe was holding up well, Zorro thought as they reached the outskirts of town. Avoiding the plaza, he steered Toronado to the back alleyway that led to the tavern's rear entrance.

Seconds later, he was standing inside the deserted kitchen where he hoped Victoria might still be. A feeling of dread went through him as he realized that she must have already retired for the night and he would have to accost her in her bedroom. Not a good idea, he told himself as he scaled the wall leading to the second floor, not a good idea at all.

Soundlessly he climbed over onto the balcony and headed toward Victoria's quarters. Just as he was about to open the door, he heard a soft scuffing sound behind and spun around to see Violetta there, clad only in a nightgown. _Madre de Dios_, its thin fabric hid nothing. His trousers began to tighten uncomfortably.

"Are you Zorro?" she asked, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

"At your service, Señora," he replied, bowing stiffly.

"I thought I heard a noise," she explained. "I never thought it would be you." She glanced up at him with the same expression she had used the day before that had melted his resolve. "Has Don Diego given you a letter yet?" she asked breathlessly.

"A letter?" he feigned ignorance. "No. Why would he?" He only half listened as she once again recounted the story behind her husband's curious missive. He was more worried that the longer they stood outside Victoria's bedroom, the better the chance that they would either wake the other woman up or that he might once again lose his head and kiss the beautiful widow.

". . .so you see, it is very important that Diego get this letter to you," Violetta said with a wave of her hand. That action caused her breasts to strain against the diaphanous gown she was wearing, clearly outlining her pert nipples. Zorro fought the rising tide of lust that filled him, causing him to harden even more. He heard someone moan and realized it was him. _Maldita sea_. He tried to focus on what she was saying.

"You must go at once to get it from him." she implored.

"_Si,_" he replied, not quite sure what he was agreeing to do. He would have agreed to fly to the moon if she would just back to her room and out of his sight, if not out of his mind.

Suddenly the door they were standing in front of flew open, and a tousled Victoria appeared, wearing a very displeased expression and equally transparent night attire. Zorro darkly glanced upward for a second before turning his attention back to his companions.

Victoria could not believe what she was seeing. The man she loved and that. . .that. . . hussy who trying to get her hooks into Diego, rendezvousing outside her room. And the widow was only wearing her nightgown and Zorro. . . She looked him up and down, pausing as her eyes swept over his groin. A red haze settled over her.

"Get out!" she shrieked. She stepped toward the couple, raising her fists. Whether she intended to strike him or her, she would never know, because Zorro grabbed both of her wrists. "Let go of me, you _cerdo_!" Victoria struggled as she shouted, "How dare you? I thought you. . . Ooo. . ." She began kicking at his shins with her bare feet. "Ouch." Pain shot up her leg as she connected with his leather clad leg.

"Victoria," he said in a low tone, "this is not what it seems." He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the widow who was standing there, looking on with wide-eyed innocence. "I came here tonight to see you, not her," he explained.

She didn't believe him, her fear (irrational as it was) that the other woman was not only attempting to steal Diego from her but now Zorro as well, overruled her common sense. She tried to pull away from him again and this time he let her go. Taking a deep breath, she realized that the three of them were no long alone, and most of her other guests were peering out of their rooms, staring in various degrees of shock and fascination. _Oh, perfect_, she thought, thinking of the gossip that would spread like wildfire through the pueblo the next day. A wanted criminal caught with two nearly naked women. . . The gossips would have a field day with that little tidbit.

"Just get out," she reiterated, all the anger leaving her as she gazed up at Zorro. She then turned to the señora. "And I want you and your mother out of here first thing in the morning."

"But we have nowhere else to go."

"Not my problem," said Victoria. With one last look at the man she thought loved her, she stepped back into her bedroom and slammed the door shut.

Zorro glanced at Violetta apologetically, shrugging his shoulders. Taking a couple of steps, he hopped onto the balcony railing and leaped forward, catching the chandelier. He landed on the floor below and disappeared through the kitchen.

"Well, that was truly a disaster," he muttered as he settled himself into the saddle on Toronado's back. He nudged the horse and they took off at a gallop. Not only had he managed to infuriate Victoria even more, he mused as he sped across the countryside, he had fallen even farther under the beautiful young widow's spell.

He needed to find out what that letter contained that was so important. And hopefully by doing so, he would be able to dispel whatever mysterious enchantment Violetta was using to hold him in her thrall.

**Z Z Z**

**Author's note: **I originally did not finish this chapter by the Too Much Wine Challenge deadline, but was allowed to post what I had anyway. Since that time, however, I have made a few changes to it. So if you have read the unfinished chapter before, you will no doubt notice that this one is a bit different. Hopefully the changes are for the better. I'll let you all decide.


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